Going Under
by spnMom
Summary: Should Dean be worried? Rated T for language and violence.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **Don't own them. The wonderful word of Winchester belongs to Master Kripke… I am just dabbling a bit to pay homage to his greatness.

**A/N: **This is my first fan fiction that I am publishing. I probably need a beta, but I just wanted to get a couple published first and then see if I can talk anybody into fixing my mess. This story started as a drabble, but I am curious to see where it goes, so I am allowing it to continue… Yes, there is a plan… Sort of….

* * *

_The spell said 15 minutes._

_He was supposed to come out of it in 15 minutes._

_We followed the steps precisely. Bobby and Sam researched the lore, checked and rechecked everything. After all that prep, why was Sam just lying there nearly 20 minutes later? What went wrong?_

Dean checked Sam's pulse again… _Was it slower?_

"Damn!" Dean cursed. "I knew I should have been the one to go under."

Suddenly Dean grabbed his phone and frantically started dialing Bobby. _Something's horribly wrong_, he thought with cold dread as he watched blood start to dribble out of the corner of Sam's mouth.


	2. Chapter 2

**Three Days Earlier**

The setting sun added a rosy glow to the shiny black finish of the lovingly maintained 1967 Chevy Impala as Dean Winchester cruised into South Dakota on the seemingly never ending Interstate 90. While AC/DC's _Back in Black_ thrummed out of the speakers, Dean started tapping his not-so-little little brother on the shoulder to wake him up.

"Wakey, Wakey, eggs and bakey sleepy head… Come on Sam, we're going to be at Bobby's in about 30 minutes. Let's go over the case again before we get there."

Sam jumped a bit as he woke up, but quickly regained his composure at the familiar surroundings. Sam and Dean Winchester spent more time in the Impala than many people spent in their homes. After a good stretch, Sam automatically reached for a bottle of water and took a big swig. After capping the bottle, he yawned and readjusted himself in the seat while trying (unsuccessfully) to stretch his legs.

Dean chuckled to himself as he watched his younger brother get himself together. "Come on Sleeping Beauty, give me a quick summary."

Sam cleared his throat then pulled out his notes. "Ok, Bobby did most of the research on this one. There were two killings last week outside of Rapid City, South Dakota. Besides some obvious signs of torture, the bodies also had symbols carved into them that could be linked with demonic or pagan rituals and this is the part that gets me… the cause of death for both of the victims was cerebral hemorrhage yet there were no significant head wounds found; no concussions, no fractures, nothing... just spontaneous hemorrhages in the frontal lobe."

"What about the stuff in the 60's?" Dean prompted.

"Yep, based on the location that the bodies were found, Bobby traced these last two murders to a serial killer that last hit back in 1969. The last of 13, young male victims was LT Jason Manning, age 23, stationed out of Ellsworth Air Force Base… He disappeared August 16th, 1969 and was found 3 days later with the same type of wounds in the woods outside of Rapid City. After Jason, the killings just stopped with no explanation. People assumed he got arrested for something else or died. Since these killings were getting progressively more frequent and violent, the authorities didn't think that he could just stop or move on without popping up on the national radar somewhere else."

"So, either we have a copy cat, a very old serial killer who decided to pick up where he left off, or we have something supernatural on our hands," Dean mused. "Good times."

**SNSNSNSNSNSN**

Bobby was just putting the finishing touches on his famous chili when he heard the familiar rumble of the Impala as it pulled up. It had been several weeks since he had seen the brothers and he stepped out on the porch to give them the once over and make sure they looked healthy. The boys weren't always quick to mention non-life-threatening injuries. Sometimes he thought those boys could take their "I'm fines" and shove them up their ass. How's a man supposed to watch out for them if they wouldn't tell him when something was off.

Sam was the first one to unfold himself from within the tight confines of the car. He did it with the lithe smooth grace of a panther; he just arched his back a bit and kept right on coming. That kind of motion took coordination and wouldn't work well with a concussion… When Dean pulled himself out of the car, he straightened slowly, but there was a smile on his face when he stretched. No signs of bruised ribs there. So, Bobby had to conclude that for once, the boys were relatively healthy. Usually when they popped in they were nursing some kind of injury. It was really nice to see them looking on top of their game.

"You guys took your own sweet time getting here," Bobby groused good-naturedly. Why don't you go get cleaned up while I set the food out. I got chili and biscuits and even some salad for anybody not afraid of a little green on their plate."

Dean sneered at the idea of ruining a perfectly good meal with salad, then asked hopefully, "Any pie?"

Bobby casually offered, "Only if you're OK with blueberry… I finished the apple off last night, but I do have vanilla ice cream. We can heat the pie and plop some ice cream on it, if you want."

"I think I've died and gone to heaven," Dean gushed, then couldn't help adding… "Bobby, old boy, you'll make someone a wonderful wife someday… that is if you ever learn to make a pot of coffee that can't be used to take paint off the wall."

Bobby laughed at the dig. He loved seeing Dean and Sam in a good mood and he was no dummy. As soon as Bobby knew the boys were coming he stocked up on pie, fruit, and beer. They were doing him a favor and he knew how to make them happy… Pie for Dean, a bit of healthy food for Sam and the guys were good to go. Their lives were so rough, it didn't take much to put a smile on their faces… and that in turn made Bobby feel good.

"Hush up ya idjit and get your butt upstairs and get cleaned up. If I have to wait on you, there'll be no pie tonight," Bobby barked.

Sam smirked as Dean hustled up the stairs. "Uh, Bobby… I just thought I'd warn you. Dean considers intentional denial of pie cause for immediate reprisal that could result in bodily injury. Dean's pranks tend to get out of hand after a round or two."

"You know," Bobby started sounding quite unconcerned. "He tried to prank me once when he was about 13… and he never did it again. Why don't you ask him about it someday? He's probably gotten over it by now, maybe he'd tell you about it. He wouldn't look me in the eye for over a year after that."

Sam wasn't too comfortable with the evil, yet satisfied, little grin Bobby had on his face after that little revelation. Sam didn't think he would be pranking Bobby any time soon *shiver*. "I think I'll just go get cleaned up," Sam said meekly.

"Good choice", Bobby agreed with a smile. These boys, they trusted him so much it made them gullible… When Bobby caught wind that 13 year old Dean was planning a prank against him he casually let it slip to Dean that John Winchester, the boys' dad, had tried to prank him once and been harshly put down in a most embarrassing fashion. That impressed the youngster so much that all plans ceased. Pranks weren't as much fun if the other party wasn't willing to "play nice".

As his mind drifted to the problems with the case they were working on, the smile slipped off his face. It was kind of a shame that Bobby was going to spoil everybody's good mood when he laid out the whole case for them after dinner. There was probably going to be another victim taken any day now and he would be dead 3 days later if they couldn't wrap this up quickly. They had very little information on the killer and once the next victim was chosen, every hour of delay would be one more hour of torture for some innocent victim. A short time frame to solve an impossible crime; this case looked like it was gonna be a bitch.


End file.
